A New Calling
by SAL of Mintzlevania
Summary: Hiding deep in the outskirts of London, Draco Malfoy wastes away, waiting for something to call out and save him from the life he'd gotten himself stuck in. And if some wizards catch wind of his location?...Set a few years after the war. Possible romance, possible character death, possibly might not be continued.
1. Prologue

**A/N: New story, though I might not continue it because I lack discipline and motivation. We'll see. I hope you like this at least! Might have some romance (most likely dysfunctional DM/HP) but I really don't know where I'm going with this. For the most part. :) Rated T for later chapters (sexual implications, language, violence, whatever - but nothing graphic. Hence the _implications_)**

Prologue

_Dear Mother,_

_I'm running away. Hopefully, by the time you find this, I'll be just another anonymous face in Europe. _

_I'm sorry for not being the son you've always dreamed of. I cannot make you love me enough nor can I make myself stop desiring your love, as a son always longs for his mother's affection. Father has taught me, if anything, that I cannot be perfect no matter how hard I push myself to try to meet his expectations. By the end of the war I was no longer who I used to be nor was I who I wanted to be. I've never wanted any of this, actually, but for the pride of the family I tried to obey every evil scheme, every order the Dark Lord gave._

_This is my chance to start over. Father has passed and I am aware of how this hurt you, but I cannot stay here any longer either. Many people still hold resentment for the Malfoy family and I am trying to redeem the family, not by carrying out evil but by choosing against it. You know how hard it is to stay positive. _

_I am sorry to disappear from your life, but at the same time I wish for you to simply forget me. Had I my wand, I would not hesitate to obliviate you. I suggest you stay in France with some relatives and keep off the radar for your own safety. _

_Do not worry about me, I know you meant no harm mother. You loved me more than father hated me, but you were weak. I'll survive out there. I am not alone._

_Your son,_

_Draco_

I sighed, sealing my letter in a plain envelope by hand. Potter stole my wand during the war and I was now prohibited to ever carry one again, so I learned to live without magic. The change was astounding to say the least.

I was _not_ amused.

The manor felt cold, most of the furniture sold off so that we could still afford to eat. There was no income now that father had died and no one would dare hire a Malfoy.

I glanced around the kitchen before shouldering my knapsack. Rain pounded outside, flooding the garden and the walkways. Leaving the darkening kitchen, I made sure to place the letter somewhere mother would find it. She would be home in a matter of hours.

My bare feet padded past the hollow rooms and I stared straight ahead. _Someone died in that room. We tortured someone in there. _I tried blocking the memories out but couldn't. Voldemort's image ingrained itself in my mind, smiling wickedly. I'd lied in the letter. I was alone, with memories and regrets.

I stood under the overhang for what felt like an eternity, questioning my actions and doubting every belief I'd ever held. The rain didn't let up but seemed to grow stronger and I noticed my shoes were left inside, but I couldn't go back in to get them. If I went back inside I wouldn't come back out tonight.

My bag is heavy though it carries little without a charm placed on it. Sure, to some it would be a minor inconvenience, but to me it meant limiting my supplies to survive.

Unable to wait any longer, I took my first step onto the bricks and flinched against the cold. But I took another step. Rain pelted down around me, threatening and soothing at the same time.

Leaving the manor on foot was my own doing. I could apparate easily, no wand needed, but here it felt _wrong_. Not because it could be traced (though it could), but because the feeling of physically leaving Malfoy Manor behind felt more _right_.

It was the same feeling of wrong that I'd felt during the war. Not that I was doing the evil deeds, but that I wasn't doing good ones. I wasn't even doing anything to stop them, I simply watched and waited. They killed my teachers and classmates, threatened my family and friends, destroyed the school I longed to call home.

Hell, the even tortured _me _sometimes. And now my mind decided to torture me in consequence for my apathy.

So I was done with that feeling, and as I walked away from the manor and decided to begin anew, there was a lingering pride within me. I was choosing to do something on my own for once.

And it felt _good_.

Half a mile out I suddenly stopped. Thoroughly soaked with rain (and not getting any drier), I didn't bother finding shelter as I had a sudden thought.

I had no wand and, in theory, no magic. The wizarding world had an unofficial bounty over my head and I was practically defenseless. _What the bloody hell was I thinking?_ There was no safe place to go in this half of the world but all this was all the world I knew.

The only option I had was to live among the _muggles_. Imagine that! Me, Draco Malfoy, living with that filth. _Now isn't the time to be high and mighty, Draco_. Still, I groaned at the thought of living in muggle-London. Maybe staying at the manor wasn't so bad.

I kept moving forward, musing over the possibilities. Roaming the countryside didn't sound so bad after all. Until I remembered, _oh right, I hate the countryside_.

Three miles out the air was freezing and night had set in. My shivering became violent and my feet were raw and battered. I nearly dropped down in the mud but I needed to find adequate shelter. Or at least someplace dry.

Deciding that now was a good time to apparate, I began to consider where I could go inside of London. I couldn't risk hiding at the Leaky Cauldron, and the populated magic areas of London were also off limits. Only one place stood out, and though it was risky, I decided to try anyway.

When I landed, water sprayed up and all across the concrete around me. Rain dripped from my bangs as I fought to regain my balance. I was used to apparating in groups. When my feet were steady once again, though still hurting too much to stand for long, I lifted my head.

The place was silent and empty, just as I'd hoped. It was, after all, a month or two into the school year, so the train wasn't supposed to come by often. Not until the Christmas Holidays at least.

I admitted that I missed Hogwarts more than I thought I would've. The place brought back bad memories, though, so I declined Headmistress McGonagall's offer to have me back to finish my last year. They didn't really want me there anyway.

Platform Nine and Three-Quarters felt familiar, just eerily quiet this time. Although I could easily be discovered and attacked, my feet refused to move any further. Dropping down to sit on the pavement, I placed my knapsack between my feet and began to pull things out.

All of my clothes were soaked and the covers of my few books were warped, but the thin blanket I'd packed was enchanted. Nothing could dirty it or wet it, and it was of the highest quality a Malfoy could afford - that is, before they lost nearly everything.

Wrapping myself up, much like a burrito, I scooted toward a pillar. Thank god the ground wasn't as filthy as it was when the station's crowded. I still visibly cringed, though, spotting the gathered dirt and dust. The platform was cold and hard but within my blanket I held what bit of heat there was. It took me hours to fall asleep though, and even then my clothes were still damp.

In the morning I woke up with a massive headache and little hope. Numb fingers grasped the blanket tightly but I made no move to stand. A draft breezed by and I shuddered, closing my eyes again. _Now what?_ I hadn't even thought through my plan. _An idiotic mistake, and for a Malfoy… I can see why father resented me. _

I didn't move all day. There was no place to go, no one to see, no muggle money to buy food with. The few galleons I possessed wouldn't be accepted by any shop keeper unless I went to Diagon Alley or the Leaky Cauldron, the two placed I'd already ruled out.

Knockturn Alley was an even worse idea, given recent circumstances.

Night fell and my stomach roared. I knew that I needed to find food but it all just seemed so hopeless now. Why couldn't I stay at the Manor? Why did I have to be such a failure. But I had to keep moving, because a pity-party wasn't really my type of party. Well, not here at least.

It was about nine o'clock when I finally stood in front of the wall, The pathway to the rest of King's Cross station. I knew that if I stood here any longer, I'd doubt myself and turn back and -

The next moment found me in the middle of a rush of muggles. I fought my way out with an embarrassing yelp and brushed off the muggle from my clothing, disgusted. Glaring, I drifted by the edges of the people, trying not to look suspicious while still dodging them. _Now where to, idiot? _

The muggles thinned out and I stood by a pillar, glowering at the night. Puddles reflected the streetlights and though I regretted my decision now, I was also convinced there was no turning back.

Through the streets of London I roamed, carefully avoiding curious eyes and dark alleyways. Sure, I could hide in the dark, but fugitives aren't the only things that hide.

Above me the clouds split and I got a glimpse of the sky. But of course, no stars were visible in the murk of London. Quite a city to get lost in, dangerous at night once you left the bustling streets. I paused on a street corner, savoring the light for a few long moments. Across the road sat a cat. I watched it and it watched me and somehow we both silently agreed it was time to move on again.

Where could I stay? _Not on the streets like some rodent_. There had to be an inn somewhere that would accept payment I could afford. "Where there's a will there's a way," I muttered caustically.

There was an abundance of closed shops and boarded up houses when something caught my eye. I knew that I shouldn't have kept walking once I noticed the declining neighborhood but the streets were unnamed and I was lost.

_Should I just apparate back to King's Cross?_ The thought was nice, but by now the ministry had probably sent someone to watch the place. A former death eater comes apparating into a muggle population and does no damage? Suspicious.

The state of the neighborhood wasn't what caught my eye though. Up ahead was a large building, clearly once the jewel in this crown. Now a brightly lit sign sat in the window proudly proclaiming "**Angus &amp; Piers Ashford Street Pub - Boarders Welcome**". At first it seemed out-of-place but maybe something could be worked out and I could stay here for a few years in the unmarked streets of unseen London . Get a job someplace around here. So the sign drew me and gave me hope. I decided to go check the place out.

The first thing I noticed was the way the door squealed when I pulled it open. Once my eyes adjusted to the darkness I then noticed the way people all stared at me. I didn't fit in. My clothes had almost dried but they still clung to me and my knapsack dripped water all over the floor, so I suppose I couldn't blame them.

A man at the bar muttered something to the bartender who laughed and relayed the comment to an older women. They all looked among themselves, then at me, and back again. I rolled my eyes and tried to ignore them.

The rest of the bar was dingy and dusty. Some of the tables still had chairs on top, as though they haven't been used in years. Cobwebs crisscrossed through an entire corner. The lamps looked like antiques and many had cracks or missing light bulbs.

Realizing how timid I probably looked, I straightened up and regained my air of arrogance. The rest of the patrons turned back to their drinks but the bartender spoke up.

"Whoa, no shoes no service. I don' need another pub's drunks comin' in 'ere." I stopped, remembering that I hadn't brought shoes. I guess I was used to the pain in my feet by now. The man squinted down incredulously. "Are-are ya trackin' _blood_?"

The woman turned around at that and breathed in heavily. "Say, Rodney, I think he's homeless. Maybe he needs a place to rest. Should we go fetch Piers?"

The bartender nodded and motioned for me to come sit down before wandering off. I was more than a bit dumbfounded, still trying to save face. _Who are these people, why am I here, god that was a stupid idea, my feet are bloody ruined, what if they hurt me? Filthy muggles. And how the hell am I going to pay for all this?_

I managed to make it to the bar and dusted off the seat a little before hopping up. My face was clearly one of distaste because the woman raised an eyebrow and hardened her expression. "Don't be getting all snobby on us, you're the rubbish who walked in here." I opened my mouth to retort but for once had nothing to say.

A man followed behind the bartender with an air of superiority. He looked me over and I glared right back. "So, what business do you have here?"

"Maybe I just want a drink," I spat at him, turning my head haughtily. The man sneered at me and leaned against the bar.

"Well, assuming you aren't yet eighteen-" I narrowed my eyes, "-would you like _me_ to buy that drink for you? I doubt you'd have the money to pay me back though, so consider it a kindness."

The words in my mind wouldn't form a sentence so I refused to say anything at all. In response the man just grinned a toothy grin.

After a few minutes of my uncomfortable fidgeting and creepy stares from him, the man spoke up again. "Now, would you like to tell us why you're _really _here? Come now, lad, we'll go talk in private." He placed a hand on my shoulder and I immediately jerked away. Grabbing my bag, I reluctantly stepped off the stool.

I followed Piers into the dark hallway, trying to stay balanced as a rat ran under my foot. My feet were killing me but I stood tall as I could — which wasn't very.

Piers opened a door at the end of the hall and switched on a light. The room itself was well furnished and looked expensive, lacking the odor of mildew, with a big painting of Piers and the late Angus on the far wall. He gestured for me to sit in front of his desk, and I reluctantly did, placing my knapsack by my feet.

"So, what brings a kid like you down here?" Again with the sneering. My mouth twitched into a frown and I shrugged. Piers frowned back and scratched the stubble on his chin. "Look, if you need somewhere to stay, I can make you an offer."

My instincts were telling me to run. But I didn't. Piers must have noticed my hesitation because he grinned again. Something was off and his eyes flashed eerily and _I did want to run_. Then my brain kicked in and I remembered — I had no where else.

"Are you going to answer or just sit there?" Piers asked, sounding bored. I blinked, trying to establish a profile on his character, but it was so erratic I couldn't keep any impression for long.

"I need a place to stay, yes." _How pathetic, can't even keep my voice from trembling. Am I a Malfoy or a bloody mouse?_

Piers leaned forward and looked down on me, creepy and condescending. "Well, can you pay for it?"

_I don't like this at all. Why didn't I stay and starve in the manor - why didn't I stay at King's Cross, why the bloody hell am I here now?_ "I, uh…" I searched for some sort of lie or excuse to avoid the question but nothing came to mind. "No," I huffed, clearly annoyed with myself. Piers sneers again as though he expected this, rifling through some desk drawers now.

"Well, as it so happens, I think something can be arranged. But first, you're going to have to tell me, why _are _you here?"

"I just need a place to stay for a while," I said defensively.

"Hm. So you ran away? It's alright, everyone does eventually." Piers pulls a paper from the drawer. "Ah, here it is! I'll need to you sign this. On the dotted line, and don't take all day." I accepted the paper cautiously, looking it over. Piers growled impatiently again so I scribbled my name and thrust it back toward him, slightly bewildered at how he knew I'd run away.

Was I that obvious?

"You've an odd name, boy. Draco. Interesting." I shifted again under his gaze, realizing I shouldn't have put my real name. _What if someone looks for me? Ha, no, no one would bother looking for me. Would they?_ "Come on, lad, I'll introduce you to the rest of the bar."

When we re-entered the bar area, me trying to keep far away from Piers and him keeping a hand on my shoulder, I noticed a few more occupants. A group of shady men lurked in the dusty corner, surrounded by the unused tables. A garish woman sat flirting with two young men by the bar.

"Eh, Rodney, have you met Draco? He's our new boarder." Some sort of silent communication passed between them over my shoulder and I shuffled my feet. The bartender turned his head and _leered_ at me. I scowled back, trying to look hateful, but Rodney just laughed.

"Aye, 'm sure everyone'll like 'im." I looked questioningly at Piers, who shot a glare at Rodney. It was so brief I wasn't even sure I'd seen it.

No one else showed any sign of noticing.

We all stood in an uncomfortable silence until Piers hastily pushed forward. "Well, I'd better show you to your flat now. Come on, come on, don't drag your feet." I gripped my knapsack straps tightly, slowly moving forward. As Piers and I walked upstairs the group at the bar began whispering again.

I couldn't catch any words, but their tones worried me more than usual. The second floor was dark and dusty like the first except I heard people behind closed doors. _Disgusting, insufferable, barbaric, intol- _before I could get through my last insult, a door slammed shut behind me and I was alone.

In a room I could unfortunately consider mine. _How lovely._

The furniture was ancient, accompanied by a yellowing closet and a dingy bathroom. I spent a while laying my soaked clothes out over the empty dresser, bare desk, bookshelf, chair - after dusting them all off, of course. In the darkness of the room - _my _room - I stared. At the shadows on the walls.

For hours.

Doors closed out in the hall, music droned on downstairs, floorboards creaked with every step.

The tiny clock showed almost 3 in the morning but I'd bet it was broken. I'd nearly bored myself to sleep, repeating traditional songs from Hogwarts in my head until they lost meaning. Finally my eyes closed and I was so close - _so close - _to sleep.

There was a knock on the door.


	2. Two Years Later

**A/N:** I'm not British, I've never been to Britain, and I've got absolutely no idea how to use British slang or terms or anything. So, uh, sorry everyone who realizes how completely dumb I sound. Also, language. And mentions of prostitution, though nothing _bad_. Also, a bit of language. F-bombs and whatnot.

This is a big accomplishment for me. I actually wrote a second chapter! And it only took… over half a year…

_Two Years Later_

I forced my eyes open into the darkness of my room. The clock read a bright 3:47 pm. There was still at least four hours to sleep, so I huffed and rolled over. I'm thankful to have been moved into another room, this one without the windows or the light and noise. My stomach growled but I couldn't go downstairs right now. I wasn't supposed to leave my room, not until evening.

Piers knew I was a wizard. I think he knew the minute I walked through the door, but I couldn't be sure. He'd held the fact over my head ever since. He knew who my family was and what we'd done; he knew _everything_. If I stepped out of line he'd report me — not to the authorities or anything, just to those who'd still want revenge.

I listened to Piers out of fear. I knew he could ruin my life in a heartbeat. It wasn't usually so bad, things were at least tolerable. I just cleaned the pub during the night. The only times I hated my life were when I was forced to entertain guests or something. Which was more often than not, unfortunately.

I could never return to my old life, I realized that soon after I moved here. I had changed rapidly since leaving home.

I sat up in bed, realizing I wouldn't be able to get any more sleep. Maybe I could count the dust on my nightstand. Or clean my room. _Again_.

After refolding what little clothes I had — I'd been given new bland ones that itched and frayed — I looked at the clock again. Half-past four. Maybe I could write another letter to mother. I never sent any of them and never planned to, but sometimes they helped distract me.

So I wrote another letter, this time about Rodney and Helena. They were the closest things to friends here. Despite knowing what I sometimes had to do, they were pretty kind and accepting. Sometimes Rodney would give me drinks for free. Helena always had stories to tell about people visiting her antique shop a few streets over. At first I hadn't got along with either of them, but my snobby attitude was gone within the month. Now I mostly felt shame, regret, self-pity. But they didn't pity me, just accepted me, and I guess that was pretty nice.

After running out of clothes to fold, I made my bed as I always do, knowing it might not last long. I took a long shower, Combed my hair, noted that it was longer than I liked it. Still bored, I tried on all of my clothes. At that point I was just trying to kill time. Either that or myself.

Finally it was time to go downstairs, so I changed into a scratchy sweater and wandered out.

"Aye, there's m'boy, Draco." Rodney called from behind the bar. Helena sat on her usual stool, third from the right. The rest of the pub was empty, but I expected it would fill up soon.

"Hello, Rodney." I muttered wearily, right on cue. Helena patted the stool beside her. I sat on the other side of her. Rodney asked and I ordered just a fizzy drink. All of this was routine.

"Anything new going on in the world?" I asked. Rodney nods. This was _not_ routine.

"A last minute request from Peirs. We're goin' to be 'aving a large party t'night. A sor' of celebration, I believe. Piers want's the place clean by nine o'clock. You might wanna get t' work, Draco." I always hated large parties. That could mean lots of work and a miserable night. Even at the Manor I loathed mother's dinner parties.

"Alright, I'll get to it." Cleaning the restaurant was usually easy. Wipe down the tables, brush off the chairs, sweep the floor. I also put up a screen to separate the unused section of the pub from the rest of it. We used it on rare party nights like this.

At a quarter-till nine I returned to my stool and sighed. "I suppose I'll need to go upstairs soon."

Brief looks of sympathy crossed their faces and Rodney shrugged. "You could always pr'tend to be another ba'tender if ya wanna."

The first guests began to arrive soon after, a few looking vaguely familiar. I tied an apron on and hung around the back of the bar, hoping no one would ask me to do anything. The pub filled up quickly with the guests, and I made the drinks while Rodney took orders. Whenever people tried to address me I'd pretend to be busy and Rodney would jump in. Helena said goodnight early and went home as the guests kept arriving.

In the background I heard the door open for the hundreth time. The little bell chimed and I flinched away from the frigid air that swept the floor.

Then came a voice I recognized. _I recognized_. Most of the people at the bar were preoccupied so I ducked down and hid. "Rodney," I hissed, motioning him down too.

"What's it, Draco?"

"I need to get out of here. There are people here that I know. And, uh, we don't exactly… I haven't seen them for a long time and would like to keep it that way."

Rodney rubbed the back of his neck, glancing over the edge of the bar. "Just 'old that thought, I'll try t' getcha up." He stood up and continued serving customers casually. Moments passed and my legs started falling asleep.

Suddenly Rodney handed my a napkin. Scrawled on it in messy handwriting were the words _crawl to end of bar, through old part, sneak around back_. I silently motioned my thanks and began crawling, careful to not dirty up my clothes.

At the end of the bar I quickly ducked behind the screen into the old part of the restaurant. The party was loud, covering up my footsteps. Weaving through the tables was easy. Until, of course, I knocked over a chair. I tried picking the chair up but hit another. Spinning around, I tripped and yet another chair fell on top of me.

I heard someone in the main room coming over. "I swear I heard something right over here." I began to panic, pushing chairs aside. Around the edge of the screen I saw a face appear, and then two more. Faces I knew.

Faces I _despised_.

I scooted back until I was almost completely under the table nearest me, but the small mountain of chairs gave away my location. The three came closer and closer, then stopped. I almost let out a sigh of relief, hoping they couldn't see me, but then I heard a sharp intake of breath and a wave of hurried whispering. I caught a single word, a name, _my name_.

They knew I was there. How could I be so _stupid?_ I should have left London, England, Great Britain, the whole United Kingdom. But no, I stayed here, thinking I was safe, and now the trio of troublemaking twits was here, seeing me cowering under a table at a shady pub — disgraceful. Utterly appalling.

_If they knew my real job…_

Through mental static I heard a voice trying to get my attention, but I began to panic and couldn't stop. I was suddenly trapped back in my first night, talking to Piers in his office, making a deal with the devil's favorite pub owner. _I was a fool, I still am._

"Malfoy. Malfoy! Hello? Draco!" I'm jolted back into reality by my old rival's voice. Harry Potter, in all his former glory, crouched by the table and stared at me. Ron and Hermione stood nearby, still whispering.

"Potter." I sneered back, trying to resurrect my old pride and bitterness. At that moment, however, I was more scared than anything. Harry, thankfully, narrowed his eyes and stood back up, saying some witty retort to his friends. Hermione responded with a sympathetic voice but I couldn't figure out what she said before she took Harry's place beside me.

"Draco? Are you alright?" That was the first time in years that someone had asked me that. It pained me. Keeping up my mask, I nodded and threw in a haughty "why wouldn't I be" for good measure. She rolled her eyes and suddenly Ron was next to her.

"Come out, Malfoy, we don't wanna fight with you. Yeah, you were completely mental for...the _entire_ time we knew you, but Harry here wants us all to be friends." Hearing Ron even attempt to be nice to me was unbelieveable, and I realized that they weren't going to leave me alone until I accepted their offer.

I crawled out on the other side of the table and stood, dusting myself off pretentiously. "What do you want? Why are you here?"

All three exchanged glances and Harry rolled his eyes before speaking up first. "We're having a Gryffindor reunion with our friends, and Seamus forgot to book a place until this morning — why he was in charge, I'll never know — so we're stuck here. Now would you mind telling us how you found out?"

I shook my head and Ron threw an annoyed glare at Hermione who was gently restraining him. Harry also muttered something, so I tried to explain again. "I didn't know there was anything going on tonight until a few hours ago. I didn't know wizards would be here. Why would I show up to a bloody Gryffindor disaster?"

Hermione replied this time. "Then what _are_ you doing here?"

I froze and my sneer slowly slipped into a grimace before completely losing form. My eyes flickered over to the bar and then the stairs before I started slowly making my way over to them, weaving through the tables again.

"As it so happens, I work here." My voice was shaky and probably pathetic, but I could only hold up the façade for so long.

"Work _here?_ But you're a wizard, couldn't you just-"

I interrupted Ron as I neared the edge of the screen by the stairs. "Yes, I work _here_, and I'd best be getting to it. I suggest you leave me alone or I'll- I'll hex you into oblivion." With that last threat and the hope that no one else would spot me, I turned tail and sprinted up the stairs to my room.

As soon as the door slammed shut I slumped against it and broke down. It was haunting, seeing those three again. I was doomed, I knew they would tell all the wizarding world about who they ran into in some seedy pub in London.

Everyone would know how the great Draco Malfoy fell from power and riches to become a worthless nobody. _Was this my legacy?_

They'd laugh, I knew, and then they'd come for me. My life was going to end all because of Harry Potter and his stupid bloody friends. _Of all people why did it have to be them?_

When I finally picked myself off the floor it felt like hours had passed, but the clock only read 10:41. My hands were damp with tears and I felt completely numb. Stumbling to my bed, I only hoped that no Gryffindors would want me for company later in the night, that all their bloody bravery and righteousness would keep them above such action.

I lay in bed silently, having come to terms with my punishment. For everything I did to my classmates at Hogwarts, I deserved no less than to be hurt or tortured or killed by their hands.

Sleep was impossible. Meltdowns were always exhausting, but every time I dozed off I dreamt of the worst case scenarios. Around midnight, I sat up in bed.

Something was in the hallway upstairs. Of course, it could have been one of the other… residents. It could have been Piers, making sure no one snuck out like they sometimes do. But I recognized most peoples' footfalls by now and this didn't fit any of them.

Overwhelming dread filled my stomach and I prepared myself for the worst. I lurched up, hurriedly fixing my hair in the mirror, wiping the tears stains from my cheeks, straightening my clothes. _Put on a brave face Draco, fear is weakness and you _cannot afford _to be weak._

There was a knock on the door. It was a timid sound, like the knocker wasn't sure they were supposed to be there.

I approached the door, slapping on an air of arrogance that I once actually felt. If it was a Gryffindor, I would deny everything. If it wasn't, well, I'd just do what was asked, as always. I turned the handle of the door slowly, cautiously, staring at the floor as it swung open.

"Malfoy." _No, no this cannot be happening. _Biting my tongue, I take a step back, then several more, and he walks into my room.

"Potter." Lifting my gaze, I meet his eyes with rage, fury, and mostly fear. "You're not supposed to be here. Why are you-" My voice betrayed me and I swallowed uncomfortably before trying again. "Why are you here?"

Potter closed my door gently behind him and my panic spiked.

"What do you want, where are your friends? Why are you here?" My mind started racing and based on Potter's expression my fear was showing through.

"I, uh, wanted to talk to you. Ron and Hermione are waiting downstairs, seeing the others on their way." Potter shrugged like it was the most ordinary thing in the world, as though we were good pals that hadn't seen each other in years. He leaned against my dresser and I shifted away to stand by my bed, across room from him.

"How did you find me? Piers doesn't let just anyone come up here." I asked, trying to calm myself down. Potter took a step forward and I took one back, tripping onto my bed.

"Yeah, I asked the barman, and he took me to the owner. He seemed a little hesitant, but sent me up here anyway. Am- am I missing something?" No answer. "Well, what are you doing here anyway? Shouldn't you be, oh I don't know, making people miserable?" Potter stared over at me accusingly and I looked away silently. _So he doesn't know. Just thought my boss let him up here as a _friend _or something._

The glare continued for at least a full minute before he spoke again. "Malfoy, what game are you playing at. I just-"

"Why are you here?" I repeated, louder this time, picking at the threads in my blanket. "Go tell the whole world that Malfoy is a dirty low-life with a muggle's job and no family. Let them get their revenge. I know you will, so get on with it."

Potter rolled his eyes. "Obviously you're in hiding and I shouldn't ruin that for you. You'll do that fine on your own. Besides, I was thinking that maybe we should just put our past behind us. The war is over, Malfoy."

"Maybe for everyone else, but for me it's just a different war." I muttered, really focusing on those threads. Suddenly Potter was there next to me, looking concerned. I shrunk back, but he prompted me to continue speaking.

"Look, maybe you have your whole life sorted out now and a family and friends. Your war is over, Potter. But I'm _stuck _here, okay? My family name isn't exactly popular. People still want me dead, hell, even I do. My war is still going on. I have a god awful job in a stinking pub and bloody customers every fucking night and I can't change, I can't fix anything, _I can't leave._ My life is sold to a bar owner in shady London. So don't talk to be about a fucking war being over, don't even start!"

I didn't remember standing up or beginning to yell but suddenly I'm in the middle of my room, trembling.

Potter stared at me from the corner where he'd retreated to. My adrenaline quickly ran out and I fell back onto the mattress like a rag doll. Potter slowly came toward me, reaching out a hand hesitantly. "Mal- uh, Draco? Are you alright?"

Hot tears rolled down my face and I choked out a sob, my lungs feeling constricted. "No." I whispered, curling in on myself. I felt sick. Potter continued to stand there, unsure of what to do.

"Do you- I mean, anything I can do to, uh, help?" After no response he continued, but I knew where he was going with this. "About what you said, ya know, about the uh, the customers, and um, well-"

"Get to the point, Potter." I sighed, trying to sound bored, too tired to follow my plan of denial. This couldn't possibly get worse.

"Are you a, uh, do people- do people pay to sleep with you?" Potter blurted out immediately. _Wow, way to be straightforward. And utterly uncomfortable_. Staring up at Potter, I smirked through my tears. Maybe if I downplayed the whole situation and didn't act hurt he'd leave faster.

"Yes, I'm a _prostitute_." I bit out the word with pure hatred. "I thought you knew. So, again, why are you here? To ridicule me, no doubt?" Potter didn't respond right away, gaping at me, seemingly embarrassed. He closes his mouth and furrows his brow, looking distressed.

"Uh, right, well, yes, I can see why that would…" He trailed off, turning in a circle and thinking over what to say. "I guess I can see why you were so, uh, scared earlier. But trust me, I'm _definitely_ not here for that. Sorry for alarming you. Really. I just- wait, _what_? Seriously, you do? You sleep with fucking strangers for money?"

I flinched inwardly at his words and looked away. Guilt and shame rose to my surface and I buried my face in my hands. "I thought you said you wouldn't ridicule me." I admit, I'm sarcastic at the worst of times.

Potter continued to pace my floor, occasionally muttering half-formed sentences. Finally he stopped and turned toward me. "Look, Ron and Hermione are probably wondering where I am. I need to get back to them. But I'm coming back tomorrow."

At my mortified expression he quickly realized his mistake. "No, no I mean- what time do you work? Actual work, not...uh, not whatever you do after hours. I just- I need for you to explain all this."

"Why should I?"

"Because how does Draco Malfoy, the great and prestigious Death Eater, end up in the slums of London as a- a-"

"Prostitute." I finish.

Potter grimaces. "Uh, yeah, that. I want to know how that happens to someone like you. And _you_, you're going to tell me. Tomorrow." With a slam of the door, Potter left.

I'd been so weak. I made a huge mistake. Now Potter wasn't going to let this go. His goddamn hero complex wasn't satisfied with winning the war, no, he wanted to save the greatest failure in all the wizarding world too? He would tell Ron and Hermione, I was sure, and they'd probably be disgusted.

Everybody would know what a fool I was.

The next evening I'd go downstairs and ask Rodney what to do, I decided. He could help me out. Until then, I listened to the sound of my own erratic breathing and the whistle of the wind

Sometime around five in the morning I fell asleep, worn out from the emotions.


End file.
